


Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch

by folkykindoftune



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, fluff that escalates into kind of sexy time i think, just a lil tho, subby!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 02:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folkykindoftune/pseuds/folkykindoftune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas hates baking. At least, he says he does.</p><p>Dean needs help baking. At least, he says he does.</p><p>Baking shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch

Cas hates baking. He hates it, hates it, hates it.

Well, that's a lie. He doesn't hate baking. He loves to bake. But for some reason that he hasn't entirely decided upon, Dean musn't know. So he lies.

Not lying. Fibbing. He's okay with fibbing.

\- - - - -

"Cas?" Dean shouts from the kitchen, face deep in the fridge. "Caaaaaaas? Do we have any eggs? I need eggs."

"What for?"

"Cake. Maybe cupcakes. Haven't decided yet." Cas groans, buries his face in his hands. "I found 'em. Cas, c'mere. I need help."

Cas is wary. "With what?"

"You hold the bowl with the dry stuff, I pour the wet stuff in. Team work, babe. C'mere." Cas begrudgingly gets up, and is floored with the smell of artificial vanilla when he steps foot into the kitchen. Dean's hair is covered with a thin layer of either flour or icing sugar, and Castiel isn't sure whether he wants to know which. "There's a boy. Hold the tin."

Dean hands him the cupcake tray; he holds it at arm's length, as if he's scared it's going to blow up. "Holding the bowl. Yeah. I can do that." He mumbles. "Why do you need help holding the bowl, Dean? You do it by yourself all the time." Cas gives Dean a wary look when he laughs.

"I don't _need_ help, silly. I just want help." He says plainly, pouring the egg  & milk mixture into the second bowl. "Quality couple time, y'know? You always say we should spend more time together that's not killin' shit, so here we are." Cas isn't pleased.

"I don't like to bake, Dean. You know that."

"Oh, _reeeeaally_?" Dean snorts, mixing the batter with one hand and taking a swig of cheap beer with the other. "Then why are you so quick to help every time I ask? You could just say 'fuck you, Dean, baking is for sissies'. Which it's not. Men can bake. Baking is fun."

"Maybe we do need to spend more time together." Cas shrugs, face flushed red. He runs a hand through his hair and coughs. "So. Whatcha making?" He asks nonchalantly.

"Cupcakes. Vanilla cupcakes. Your favourite." Dean beams. "I remembered. 'Cause they're as boring as you. Kidding! I'm kidding, calm down." Dean yelps as Cas beats him playfully over the head with a dirty whisk. "Oh, you are so in for it now." He grabs a handful of batter and holds it high in the air. "Bring it on."

"Dean. Dean no. No, please don't do that." Holding his hands in front of his face, Cas backs away as slowly as possible. "Dean, no!" Cas squawks when the glob of runny vanilla goop lands with a gross sound in his hair. "Dean Winchester, you are a dead man."

Dean laughs when Cas picks up the bag of flour, but his eyes widen when the other man wields it like a weapon of mass destruction. As fast as he can maneouver around the tiny kitchen, Dean is gone; up the stairs and into the bedroom. "Too fast for you, huh Cas?" He yells triumphantly, sitting against the shut door.

"Open this door right now." Cas says, muffled by the thick wood of the door. "Dean. I'm not kidding. Open the door."

"You're gonna kill me!" Dean cries, bracing his legs to keep Cas from beating it down.

"I am not. Open the door." He pauses a moment, then adds, "Please?"

"You promise not to kill me? You _promise_?"

"I promise." Cas sighs.

Dean gets up on shaky legs, opens the door a crack. "Hi."

"Dean."

"Yes, baby?"

"There is vanilla cupcake batter on my face." Dean doesn't see any, but he knows what Cas is getting at. He's definitely going to play along.

"Is that so?"

"You," Cas steps into the room, effectively cutting off the only escape route. Dean looks panicked. "Are going," He steps closer, and grabs Dean by the shirt collar. Turning his head slightly, Cas whispers the last four words into Dean's ear in the quietest voice he can manage right now. "To clean it off."

Dean chokes on the last bit of air he's got in his lungs. "Yeah, yeah, okay." He stammers, redder than Cas has ever seen him. "Okay, I-- I can do that. Yes. Okay."

"Are you sure?" Cas says in a husky voice, tracing Dean's hip bone with his thumb. "Are you gonna be a," A longer pause this time, and Cas' voice is right in his ear now. "Good boy?" His tongue darts out to trace along the shell of Dean's ear. Dean whines low in his throat, and his hands dart up to grab Cas by the hair; to keep him there as long as possible.

"Yeah." He groans, fingers lacing together behind Castiel's head. "Yeah, such a good boy for you."

"Say it baby. Tell me you're _my_ good boy. Only mine."

"Your good boy." The words rush out of Dean before he can choke them back down. "Your good boy, so good. Only yours. Please, please please."

"Please what?"

"Fuck me."

Cas throws his head back and laughs, long and loud, then turns away. "Clean up the kitchen, then we'll talk."

Dean's never run faster to clean up flour and sugar in his life.


End file.
